A story about Mia and church

Our church is small and kind of boring, but mom makes us go every Sunday anyways. She dresses me up in stiffly ironed clothes and Mia in a stiff velvet dress and then we sit in the long, uncomfortable pews surrounded by a bunch of stiff adults and their equally stiff children.

Mia never seems to mind in the slightest. She sits perfectly still, her hands on her lap, and drinks in every word the preacher says.